wildflowers in the winter
by headlesshessian
Summary: It was almost strange, how out of the pain and cold and clutching grips of their pasts, something fragile and sweet had managed to grow between them.  Prussia/Lithuania, minor US/UK


Y'know how sometimes you're pulling an all-nighter, and you're halfway through a practice test for a state exam you have to take in roughly 7 hours, and suddenly a completely random idea comes to you? And then you bang it out in an hour and end up staring at the screen wondering what the hell you've just written? This would be that story. (for me, at least.)

Anything you recognize, I don't own. Historical accuracy will be discussed at the end.

* * *

If you asked, you'd find that neither Prussia nor Lithuania knew when it had begun.

Perhaps it was from the very start, before they were enemies, or rather, before they _knew_ they were enemies. Before they knew anything, a small, unafraid, pagan boy extended his hand in friendship to an incredibly Christian albino.

It was his smile that first caught Gilbert, or at least that's what the silverette constantly stated. The way that Toris simply beamed at the potential new companion that lowered the Teuton's defenses, and it was the reason that he grasped the extended hand tightly.

It was the adventurous aura about Gilbert that first caused Toris to observe him. He wasn't small and timid like Raivis, and wasn't interested in clothing like Feliks, if the grass stains on his white tunic were any indication. And Toris had never seen anyone that young with that color hair before, certainly none who wore it with such confidence. He was obviously a stranger to the area, and he was new and intriguing and Toris couldn't help but skid to a stop in front of him and smile and offer his hand.

For a few weeks, they were simply Gil and Toris, friends who skipped rocks and watched clouds together. There was no talk of politics nor religion between them until certain people saw fit to follow the young nations and angrily informed them of their new status: enemies. And even then, in regards to hatred, it wasn't _Why should I?_ but rather, _How can I?_

But maybe it didn't start then. Maybe it started when they were older, when Old Prussian flourished as a language and the Commonwealth was the powerhouse of Europe.

The marches were long and battles tiring, but buoyed by victories and gold-filled coffers Lithuania couldn't bring himself to care, especially if he got to see Prussia defiant and defeated underneath him.

Poland, bless him, simply smirked and left the two in peace, realizing exactly how Lithuania was going to take full advantage of their victory over Prussia at Tannenberg. And while the Teutonic Order retreated and the Lithuanians and Poles celebrated, in the dark of the battlefield away from the encampments, two men lay panting and sweating, hands clasped in the muddy grass.

_"It'll be you next time!"_ the silverette gasps, still breathless and unsure why he's smiling.

_"A likely story,"_ the brunette counters, gently squeezing the hand clasped in his.

It becomes their little routine-fight, fuck, indulge in political pillow talk (_you don't really think Muscovy will become a real threat, do you?_), then straighten their clothing and pretend it never happened (though their mud-covered armor proved otherwise).

And no matter who won each battle, the winner would never fail to help the loser stand and send him back to his troops.

But it might not have started then, either. Maybe it was a few decades spent in close quarters that truly set everything aflame, if one chooses to believe that "Love is friendship set on fire."

Their time as the German Democratic Republic and the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic began awkwardly. A blind man could probably see the way the two danced around each other; two great powerhouses reduced to chores and busywork.

If their eyes met by chance, they would both look away, equally ashamed at what they had been reduced to.

However, after several hellish nights and plots to endear himself to the Russian, Toris finally managed to get permission to walk through the fields near Russia's house without supervision. It was there Gilbert found him, one day, having done the same thing.

After years of fighting each other and everyone else, it was if all other veneers had been stripped away. Like almost a millennia before, there was no Lithuania or Prussia, only Toris and Gil.

It was quiet, and only the plants rustled as Gilbert extended a now-callused hand to Toris. Once again, the Lithuanian smiled. It may not have been as bright or wide as it once was, but it was equally genuine.

Toris slid his fingers through Gilbert's as the two walked together. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

Their walks became more frequent, happening almost every day starting in late spring and continuing, rain or shine, through early fall. In winter, the odd pair could be found reading or filing paperwork together near a window as the temperatures dropped in the world outside.

It was almost strange, how out of the pain and cold and clutching grips of their pasts, something fragile and sweet had managed to grow between them.

But somehow, it was appropriate and fitting. They didn't flaunt anything (Russia's punching bag seducing his precious favorite? It would have been suicidal), but if one paid attention, it was obvious in the way that neither would let the anyone but the other clean and bandage their own injuries; the way they'd trustingly lean against each other in front of the fireplace; the way Gilbert would cause mild trouble in the kitchen and Toris would simply smile and tolerate it.

The way that Gilbert begged Toris and Toris alone into coming with him to the fall of the Berlin Wall.

It resulted in a hideous fight that began with quiet, carefully calculated verbal barbs and ended with Lithuania shrieking at Prussia to _Leave, get out, just get out of my sight!_ and Prussia storming out without any of his bags, barely remembering to throw on his coat on his way.

(On an unrelated note, it scared the shit out of the rest of the household to hear quiet, reserved Lithuania actually raise his voice, especially to his speculated lover.)

It was only when he discovered the almost-exorbitant amount of money in the coat pockets that Gilbert realized it was Toris' plan all along.

The note tucked into the neatly folded bills read:  
_Gil-  
Please don't hate me; I would come if I could. Russia was planning on coming home early and giving us a nasty surprise, so I had to give you a head start. I took the liberty of sending a few of your bags ahead to your brother, by the way. Give my regards to everyone and I hope I see you soon. With any luck, I'll be free too.  
Love, Toris_

Sitting in the cab he hailed, Gilbert reflected that the note was the first time Toris mentioned _anything_ about love.

Oddly enough, he found he didn't mind.

A few months later, sitting at Germany's kitchen table on a cold March morning, Gilbert spit his coffee all over his breakfast after reading the headline of "_Lithuania declares independence!_"

Ludwig was yelling at him and the dogs had started to bark like crazy, but Gilbert lunged for the phone anyways and dialed America.

"America speaking, wassup?" Alfred slurred tiredly. In the background a very British voice was heard saying something along the lines of _wot th' bloody hell is going on in 'ere?_ and Gilbert would have laughed if he wasn't so excited.

"East Germany speaking. Have you heard?" Without waiting for the doubtlessly groggy response, he continued. "Tori_-Lithuania's_ declared independence!"

On his end, Germany quieted and smiled knowingly. On the other line, America whooped.

"That's awesome! Hey, hey Iggy, didja hear? Liet's declared he's a sovereign nation!" If it were any other situation, Gilbert would have laughed at Alfred's careful phrasing.

"Well that's bloody wonderful, lovey. Now can we please go back to sleep? It's one in the morning..." Arthur yawned.

"Go t'sleep, Artie," Alfred murmured away from the mouthpiece of the phone, smile evident in his voice. "So what are you gonna do 'bout all this?" Alfred asked.

Gilbert paused. "Beats me. But it'll be awesome, I'm sure!"

Alfred laughed. "Take him in your arms and kiss him! It's what I did to Arthur," he stated.

"Bloody over-enthusiastic gits, pouncing on unsuspecting gentlemen," Arthur grumbled. Alfred laughed again, said his goodbyes, and hung up. Gilbert didn't bother telling him that they hadn't kissed since the 1600s.

It took over a year. He saw Toris only once before September, walking the docks of Klaipeda. There were a few men talking in seemingly hushed voices, heads bent together in a conspiratorial manner.

Their nation, however, walked a few feet behind him and simply smiled at anyone and everyone he passed, lifting his hand in greeting. For a second, he looked up to the ship Gilbert was on and their eyes met for a second. Toris stepped forwards, green eyes wide and disbelieving, Gilbert smiled tentatively down at him, and-

One of the men grasped Toris' hands and pulled him into discussion.

When Toris was able to look back, Gilbert was gone.

Like a seed planted in the wintertime, the pair had to wait for spring to see their relationship bloom. The start of their relationship may have been before the year 1000, and they may have claimed each other over and over in the Middle Ages, and they may have taken comfort in each other through the Cold War, but it truly begun in September of 1991.

It was clear and warm, a perfect day in early September, and Toris walked out of some grey government building completely and blissfully _free_. Eduard and Raivis had disappeared somewhere, Feliks had already given his congratulations, and it was presumed that Ivan was still lurking somewhere in the building. Sighing happily, Toris collapsed on a park bench, grinned, and closed his eyes.

"Hey."

Startled, Toris opened his eyes. "L-labas," he said, smiling shyly.

"So, um, congrats on, y'know, not being a lackey anymore," Gilbert said, resisting the urge to scuff his foot on the ground in front of him (because awkwardness is so not awesome).

"Same to you," Toris said. "I'm glad you made it to the Wall safely." As if only remembering the events that had taken place beforehand, the Lithuanian turned light pink.

"Yeah, about that… Thanks." It was Gilbert's turn to blush.

Both stayed quiet for a moment, then Toris patted the spot next to him on the bench. "Sit."

The quiet remained for a second longer as the Prussian settled himself next to the Lithuanian.

"So I was thinking-"

"That's new."

"Shut up," Gilbert muttered, smiling anyways, "I'm trying to talk here."

"Shutting up," Toris joked. The two exchanged smiles once more, then red eyes glanced away from the green gaze they were trapped in.

"Anyways, I was thinking, now that we're both sovereign nations and answer to no one?" Toris nodded for him to continue and Gilbert took a deep breath, refusing to look at the other man.

"I'm going to kiss you because _I _can, and you can push me away whenever, because _you_ can. And this seemed like a way bigger deal in my head, but-"

Toris grinned, reminiscent of the smile from so many centuries ago, and pulled Gilbert into a kiss.

It was Memel and Tannenberg and all those victory-defeats all over again mixed with the knowledge that this time, there was no troops or kings to stop them from doing it again and again and again. It was a battlefield without bloodshed and both broke the kiss panting from the memories of the past and their current reenactment.

Gilbert looked at the timid brunette in awe, seeing the familiar flash of conquest once more gleaming in his eyes. He was certain that his own held the same glimmer.

Content in the knowledge that his past, present and future were wrapped up in one green-eyed package, Gilbert leaned down and kissed Toris again.

* * *

whatisthisidon'teven

Anyways. It's my headcanon that before they knew they were enemies, Gilbert and Toris were friends as cute little kids. Not sure _how_ that got into my headcanon as I really never thought about these two together before, but... whatever.

The Battle of Tannenberg/Grunwald/Žalgiris: (Grunwald=Polish, Žalgiris=Lithuanian) God, there is so much I could tell you people about this battle. It was between the troops of the Commonwealth (Lithuania and Poland) and the forces of the Teutonic Order (Prussia). The most important thing about it was arguably the tactics used. According to The Chronicle of the Conflict, "The men under Vytautas (Grand Duke of Lithuania) were fighting with the Teutonic Order's elite troops. After many hours of fighting, there were scores of victims on both sides and the men of Vytautas were forced to withdraw. This was when the Order's army, believing to have won the victory and chased the enemy away, pulled away from it's flags and formations, and found itself withdrawing from the Vytautas' forces it had previously forced to retreat. When the army of the Order wanted to come back to its former positions, it was separated from its men and flags by the Royal Army which enslaved the men of the enemy and destroyed their flags." Basically, they used a faked retreat. It happened in 1410 (Lithuania celebrated the 600 year anniversary last year).

The Cold War: Historically inaccurate because the GDR didn't try to persuade Lithuania to rebel (we rebelled on our own, thankyouverymuch). I wrote that part with Gilbert trying to persuade Toris, not East Germany trying to persuade Lithuania, if that makes any sense at all. /shot

The part about early September: Though Lithuania declared independence on March 11, 1990, it was only granted by the USSR on September 6, 1991.

There, I think I got everything! I would appreciate it if you told me what you thought of it, because... OK, I have no good reasons, I just want to know what you thought. Anyways, have a nice day!


End file.
